


Language Lost

by infinitevariety (disapparater)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Humor, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Silly, Slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/infinitevariety
Summary: Crowley is surprised by Aziraphale’s use of language.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Language Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an ask I got on tumblr and originally posted [here](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/post/628172187853111296/aziraphale-says-litty-once-in-like-2070-and).

Once they’re back at the bookshop, settled on the sofa with a glass of wine each, Crowley deems it time. He reaches into his jacket, grasps the book that has been resting in the inside pocket all night, and hands it to Aziraphale.

It is a 2020 first edition. It was released fifty years ago today, and Crowley knows Aziraphale never managed to get hold of a copy. With an initial limited run of 100 copies, and Aziraphale’s refusal to use miracles to get hold of rare books (“It wouldn’t be very sporting, would it, my dear?”), he only has second and third editions.

Crowley’s been holding on to it for a few months, waiting for the perfect moment to give it to Aziraphale. He was flicking idly (and _carefully_ ) through it a couple of weeks ago when he happened to see the publication date. And so, tonight was obviously the night.

Aziraphale’s gasp is reward enough.

He reverently takes the book from Crowley’s outstretched hand, keeping a loose and tender hold. Crowley smiles as Aziraphale strokes the front cover. A burnished yellow with embossed dark text, even Crowley can admire its beauty.

“ _Oh_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale practically sighs.

Crowley braces himself for Aziraphale’s gratitude and praise, which he craves, but will never get use to. He tries to distract himself by taking a gulp of his wine, but he can’t look away from Aziraphale’s awe-struck face.

“It’s… it’s absolutely _litty_.”

Aziraphale is so damn _earnest_ that it takes a second for the words to fully filter through Crowley’s mind. When they do, he absolutely fucking _loses it_.

He doesn’t even realise he’s choking until the thumping on his back gets a little too hard. He motions for Aziraphale to stop and gradually gets himself and his lungs under control.

“It’s—” He stops to cough a couple more times before continuing hoarsely. “It’s absolutely _what now?_ ”

“Litty,” repeats Aziraphale. “Isn’t that what the kids say?”

“Fifty years ago, maybe.”

“Oh, well, you know I’m always a little behind on the fashionable language. All I meant to say was the book is _beautiful_. I love it, thank you.”

Crowley, throat still raw, is now wholly unprepared for Aziraphale’s kind words. He replies instinctively.

“Okay, boomer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and drop me a prompt on [tumblr](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
